


6:48

by x_xemr



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Masochism, Physical Abuse, Songfic, Teachers, There is going to be more than 1 chapter btw, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-03-17 09:17:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18962338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x_xemr/pseuds/x_xemr
Summary: A fic based off of the song 'Boy in the Bubble' by Alec Benjamin.Dan Howell's life is boring. He's not popular, daring or outgoing. But he craves excitement and the only person who can give him what he wants is the pained boy who hurts him-Lester.





	6:48

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanna say that in this fic Phil's a massive dick. which obviously he is not irl because he's the kindest, most amazing person ever. What I'm trying to say is that these characters don't reflect who dnp are irl and I do not think they are alike to their 'characters'. I know that that was probably obvious but I'd feel bad if I didn't clarify. Like most au fanfics, I'm just using their names and what they generally look like.  
> I also wrote this before Dan came out. 
> 
> Also if I make mistakes please tell me. And if you have any suggestions for what you would like to happen in this fic, tell me that too. The influence of the people who are reading will give me a chance to actually write a story people like. Basically, tell me I've done something you don't like and stuff like that and I'll try my best to fix it. Thank you if you've decided to read this though <3

"Mr Howell?" asked a tall, balding man who looked like a businessman in his 50s. He was sloppily sat in a black, leather desk chair, behind a large dark wooden desk which held a few stacks of paper, a computer, and a small pot of ordinary stationery. Nothing out of the ordinary for a middle-aged teacher trying to hide the fact that he is going through a mid-life crisis. 

He looked up from his monitor at the curly, brown, messed haired boy sitting on the opposite side of the desk. The boy continued to stare at his twiddling thumbs poking out through the soft, black material of his hoodie. The boy was dressed in all black as if he was going to rob a bank or something along the line of breaking the law. He wasn't a bad kid. He was the furthest thing from evil. The most 'evil' the boy could do was break the school rule of 'don't do other students homework'. The rule wasn't exactly written down on paper like that but either way, it still leads to where the boy was sat today.

After a few moments of silence, the tall boy looked at his teacher through his lashes, keeping his head pointing down towards his hands, now devoured by his sleeves.  
"Yes, Sir?". His voice was calm. It sounded innocent, unamused even. 

"You know why you're here don't you?" The man asked, the confidence in his voice showing how sure he was of his position. 

The boy diverted his eyes away from the man with eyebrows slightly raised. "Yeah," he answered flatly, biting his bottom lip as a way to distract himself. He wasn't lying. He knew damn well why he was sitting in his teacher's office even after almost every other student had already left to go home. He wasn't proud of it, but he had no choice. at least, that's his excuse. Only to himself though, he couldn't tell his teachers that.

"Good," The man said with a small, forced smile. "I suppose you won't oppose to me giving you 2 weeks worth of after-school detentions then, will you?" His smile was no longer forced. His tone was sadistic. He had a reputation for punishing students and enjoying it. As if he didn't have anything better in his sad, lonely life to do. He's merciless. Some would say 'he's just doing his job', and others say 'he's just being a dick'. And at this moment, the boy is not apart of the 'some'. 

The boy rolled his coffee eyes in annoyance and let out a breath. He didn't know what he was expecting, after all, this was Mr Rogers. "Well, just because I know what I did doesn't mean that I like the idea of punishment." The boy said nonchalantly, staring his teacher in the face with a small smile on his face. He was generally well behaved but that didn't mean he wasn't a smartass. He knew how to reply to most situations with something witty or sarcastic. He says 'it comes with being British'. He knows there is no way out of the 2 weeks he'd inevitably get in detention, but he didn't care. While, yes, he wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of having to sit in a room for an hour a day doing mostly nothing for 2 weeks, he didn't actually have anything better to do. Well, he could've levelled up on a few dumb apps that take up his phone storage, but that's about it. He didn't have many friends to hang out with, places to go, he'd just be sitting in his room anyway so he wasn't that assed. He just didn't know how his parents would react to this 'news'. 

"Haha, I see." Mr Rogers said grinning. "Of course you wouldn't like it. No one ever does." He stood up out of his chair and started slowly walking to the other side of his desk. "However, as a smart young man as yourself would know, you don't have a choice in whether or not you do it, so there's no point in arguing." He stood to the side of where the boy sat looking down at him with an evil grin plastered against his ageing face.

"Of course not Sir. I wouldn't dream of it." he replied, the knowing smile still plastered on his pale face. "When do my 2 weeks start then?" "January 18th." He handed the boy a piece of paper. "Here's a letter for you to give your parents when you arrive home informing them that you will unable to attend anything between 3 and 4 o'clock." His face was so punchable at that moment that the boy's fist twitched. Mr Rogers belittled students at any given opportunity, and this just happened to be a great one. 

The boy took the letter out of his teacher's hand, diverting his eyes to the window behind him. The bright green of leaves from trees contrasted from the bleak colour palette of Mr Roger's office. It was relaxing. Metaphorical even. How outside of that room was a world of colour and happiness, while the room he was currently sat in was swallowing any positive emotions he had.

"Is that understood?" he said, knocking the boy's train of thought out of his mind.

"Hmm?" The boy asked, not hearing what he was asked. He looked up at his teacher who looked down at him, with the sly smile replaced with an annoyed look. One thing that was very prominent to Mr Roger's personality was how easily he got annoyed. Of course, being a teacher, you'd think he'd have a higher tolerance for annoying things, but that's not the case. Students tend to aggravate him on purpose just for a reaction, and boy do they get one. Most of the time, they get the same reaction. "Detention." He'd tell them. He'd probably given more detentions than Christmas gifts in his life at this point.

"I said," he said louder, "do you understand, Daniel?"

"Yeah," he said taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Yes, what?" Mr Rogers spoke.

"Yes, Sir," he replied, looking him in the eye.

"Good. Now get out of here I have work to do," he said, gesturing with his head to the door, returning to his desk.

Daniel shoved the letter into his bag as he walked, swiftly, out of the room.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Daniel was walking pretty quickly, looking at the floor, through the hallway of his school, just wanting to be alone in his room, but then he was falling into some lockers.

"Watch where you're going, dicksucker!" A tall, black quiffed boy said to him intimidatingly, holding the neck of Daniel's shirt in his fist. He knew his face too well. The piercing blue eyes that laugh at him. The scent of smoke that covers his lanky frame. He felt pity. Not for himself, however, for the boy whos inked hands wrapped around his throat. His expression stayed blank. His eyes staring into the cold blue eyes covered in a layer of hurt. He could tell. He knew that people had their own issues and don't know how to deal with them, and he knew, that Lester, was one of them.

The grip on his neck was tough. Not tough enough to stop his airways, but enough to hurt. Daniel didn't care. Little did Lester know, the physical pain he'd cause him was the reason he didn't fight back. Daniel needed some excitement in his boring life. This was the only thing he'd get, so he took it. 

"Aren't you going to say anything, faggot?!" Lester shouted in his face, tightening his grip on Daniel's neck. He could see the confusion in Lester's eyes. He was good at reading people just by the look in their eyes. His mother had been good at it too. She told him it's a vice and a virtue. He can read people like a book. He doesn't have mind-reading powers, he just knows. 

"Y'know...," Daniel chocked out, "homophobia's problematic." He continued to stare into Lester's eyes. 

Lester's face was full of disgust. "Don't stare at me like that, fag!" He slapped him across the face. 

The slap forced him to divert his eyes away from Lester's. His cheek stung from the slap, yet a smile was forming on his face. The lump in his throat thick. He slowly turned his head back to look at the raged boy gripping his shirt. Staring at his eyes, he said quietly, "you're pained."

Lester punched him in the gut, letting go of his neck. "Go suck a dick!" 

Daniel hunched over with a grunt in pain, then looked up at Lester and smiled. "You asked me if I was going to say anything, I just did what you wanted." 

"Don't be cocky with me, cockslut!" Lester yelled angrily as he forcefully pushed him back into the lockers. Daniel grunted in pain again and fell to the floor. The pain in his gut was strong. Yet again, he looked up at Lester through his lashes and smiled.  
"What!? Why the fuck are you smiling you filthy fag?!" He kicked him in the side. Another grunt came from Daniel's mouth. "You're a freak!" Lester started walking away from Daniel curled up on the floor. 

Daniel watched the tall boy in a black Adidas hoodie walk away from him. He sat up, Tears in his eyes from the pain. He wasn't sad about it. He sat with his back against the bright yellow of the lockers in an empty hallway with a satisfied smile on his face. He didn't hate Lester. He didn't hate the pain. To him, Lester was the only one who satisfied him. He was the only person who gave Daniel something exciting. It was his euphoria. He didn't tell anyone, but he didn't oppose to showing it. For today, the excitement was over. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

Daniel walked through the front door of his home at 4:17 pm. He'd texted his mum before he went into Mr Roger's office telling her he wouldn't be home for a bit. He hated leaving his mum to worry. She was always worrying about something. She is very protective of her son, and Daniel is okay with that. He doesn't get annoyed when she tells him not to do something because he knows she's trying to do what's best for him. His dad, however, wasn't really the 'worry type'. If Daniel came home late he would just assume he was doing what every other teenager is doing. Although to him that was 'hanging out at their mate's house playing video games', 'at the library' or 'doing homework' and stuff like that. His dad knew him just enough to know he wasn't out doing illegal stuff like drugs and whatnot. His dad wasn't really what you would call 'down with the kids these days'. Daniel found it weird as his dad was 41, not 71 and he's had a child for over 16 years. It's not that his dad didn't care about him, he was just chill and had trust that his son knew what he was doing. 

"Daniel!" His mum called when she saw him from the kitchen. "Where on earth have you been?!" She didn't sound angry or annoyed, just curious. 

"School. I have this letter to give to you." He took the crinkled piece of paper that Mr Rogers gave to him out of his backpack and handed it to her. "That should explain quite a lot." He sounded calm and collected. He didn't know why he tried to hide the true fear he was feeling from his mum, after all, to her, he was like a children's book. 

She took the paper from him and began to read. She was a quick reader so it didn't take long for her face to drop in disappointment. Daniel's face dropped. He felt ashamed. Not because of what he did but the look on his mother's face. He hated it.  
"You have detention every day for 2 weeks after school because you were caught doing other students' homework?" She was looking at him now. He nodded, staring at the floor. Doing everything he could to avoid the expression her tanned face held. "Does this mean I have to make tea later now?", she asked her tone calm. He looked at her in confusion. She was smiling. She wasn't angry? He never usually did anything to make her angry but when he did he'd usually be told off about it, but she's just smiling. 

"What?", he asked, baffled. "You're not mad?" He could usually read people's expressions like a book, but his mum? No. She wasn't a book. She was a bad Netflix adaptation of a book you've never read that left out almost all of the main plot.

"Honey," she spoke flatly with a small smile. "Of course I'm mad, I just don't see the point in yelling at you if you're already going to be punished by the school." She walked into the living room and flopped on the misty grey of polyester that was their sofa. Her son followed. "Anyway, there is leftover bolognese in the fridge. Help yourself." She diverted her attention to the TV playing some drama series Daniel didn't care about. 

"Right." He said, slightly bewildered over what'd just happened. "Thank you." He brought himself over to the fridge and prepared himself some bolognese.

He decided to eat his tea (the meal you'd have around 4-6pm, (I don't know if other people call it that so yea...???  
)) in his room as he felt awkward sitting alone at the dining table. He watched some Youtube, studied a bit for an English test he had coming up, and spent the rest of his evening doing whatever would cure him of his boredness. Scrolling through social media, playing video games and dumb apps on his phone until his mum was shouting him to go to sleep. 

11:15. He lay on his dark grey bedsheets. The side of his body hurt where he had been kicked. A bruise forming. He wasn't bothered by it though. The ache brought a sick grin to his face. He knew what he was feeling wasn't 'normal', but he didn't care. He wanted this. He wanted the marks. To feel the pain the next day. He craved it. He needed it. He needed Lester to hurt him, and he'd do whatever it took to make sure he would. He fell asleep upon his soft bedsheets. His bare skin exposed to the cold of his room. The sound of the winter wind against his open window. He was satisfied. For today, anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you want to, please give me some of your ideas for this fic and I'll be back with another chapter soon. Btw, I do have an idea of where I'm going with this fic, so don't worry. :) ~emr


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